Ширли Мерфи - The Dragonbards

“A wren!” Teb shouted.

“Yes,” Meriden said, smiling.

He laughed out loud with pleasure. “The great cats call her Kiri wren—a love name.”

“The dragons will come,” she said. “The dragons will find their way—that dragon certainly will—and the bards will. But now . . .”

She turned, and when Teb looked, there were unicorns on the hill around them, moving delicately, their horns as bright as sun on water. They pushed around Meriden, nuzzling her. Their scent was like honey, their fine muscled bodies warm and silken to stroke. They nosed at Teb and rubbed their bright horns against his shoulder. But soon they began to move out onto the battlefield, to nose and touch the wounded, to heal where they could heal.

Teb and Meriden made their way to the palace. They knelt with Kiri and Camery over wounded soldiers and animals, to doctor their hurts. Mitta was there, washing away blood, applying poultices and sewing torn flesh. Hanni knew about Thakkur. He clung close to Mitta, helping her, his small face desolate with grief.

The wounded kept coming, hobbling or carried. The bards housed them in the palace courtyard and in the main hall, tearing down ornate draperies to make soft beds. Ebis and his soldiers made stretchers from palace furniture and brought in the most seriously injured, though Ebis himself limped from his wounds. Camery rebound his leg where the bandages were soaked with blood. She thought he should soak it with poultices, but he said he hadn’t time. He went back to the wounded again, and not long afterward he returned to the hall carrying Charkky, the little otter pressed against his black beard shivering with pain.

“His shoulder is badly torn,” Ebis said, kneeling to lay Charkky on a blanket. The bards knelt around Charkky. Teb examined him as gently as he could. Charkky gritted his teeth when Camery cleaned the wound. Teb held Charkky’s paws while Camery pulled the torn flesh together and stitched it up. Even when the needle went in, Charkky tried his best not to yell. Instead he bit Teb hard on the thumb.

Afterward, he stared at Teb, chagrined.

“It’s all right,” Teb said. “You couldn’t help it.”

“I never dreamed in all my life I would bite you, Tebriel. Tease you, maybe, hold you under the water, but not bite you.” He looked around. “Where is Mikk?”

“Here,” Mikk said. “I came to find you. Hah! You look like a fine warrior in that bandage.” Mikk knelt and stared with concern into Charkky’s face. Hanni came to press against them. Mikk gathered up the little white otter and held him tight.

The palace hall grew crowded with the wounded, both human and animal. Kiri rose from doctoring a rebel soldier and stood watching Teb. She knew he grieved for Thakkur, and took his hand. They stood looking over the crowded hall. There was nothing she could say to ease his terrible remorse. He would never heal from it. She couldn’t change what had happened; she could only be there for him, be close to him.

When Teb turned away to help Colewolf with a wounded child, Kiri saw two cats carried in, limp and bleeding, and was riven with fear, again, for Elmmira. She went to search, though she had looked and looked across the battlefield for the tawny cat.

She and Windcaller scanned the body-strewn fields and hills. They saw Mmenimm, saw Aven and Marshy carrying in a fox and two owls. Windcaller circled, working farther away from the palace, until they saw a pale buff cat among the boats of the harbor. Kiri leaned down with relief to call to Elmmira.

The big cat was dragging an un-man from a sailing boat. Two captains lay on the shore. When Windcaller dropped down, Kiri saw the bloody claw marks slashed deep through their yellow tunics. She thought the one with the greasy hair was Captain Vighert. She slid down and went to look, but suddenly she felt weak and dizzy, as if everything was catching up with her. Elmmira came to her. Kiri knelt, to lean against Elmmira’s warm shoulder.

“It’s all right now, Kiri wren. It’s all over now.”

“I know, Elmmira.” She looked into Elmmira’s golden eyes. Elmmira always made her feel better. The great cat licked her face. “You are tired, Kiri wren.”

“I never thought Teb would return. When we first got to Aquervell and came down on that hill, and he was gone, I thought . . .”

“But he did return.” Elmmira purred loudly. “It’s all right now, Kiri wren.” She drew back, her whiskers twitching. ‘Tebriel is looking for you.”

Kiri turned, to see Seastrider banking along the shore. The white dragon dropped toward them and settled beside Windcaller. Teb reached down to take Kiri’s hand.

“Come, sit on Seastrider’s back.”

She looked up at him, puzzled.

“Come on.”

Windcaller nuzzled her shoulder, then lifted away toward the sea. Hungry, she called back. I’m going fishing . . . .

Kiri climbed up in front of Teb. It was strange to be on another dragon. Teb was warm against her, his arms strong and warm around her. They sat close for a long time, not saying much. After a while, he said, “I have a surprise for you.”

“What?”

“I won’t tell you. Well show you.”

Seastrider snorted and rose fast into the wind. Kiri could feel the white dragon’s delight, but what kind of surprise would so please a dragon? They banked toward the mountain ridge that rose north of the palace. It shone dark now, against the dropping sun, streaked with deep black ridges along the mountain’s face. Seastrider winged close, into the heavy shadows. Kiri stared, puzzled—but her heart had begun to pound crazily.

“There,” she cried suddenly. “Oh!”

A dragon exploded out of the shadows—a big, strapping dragon. He banked so close to them that his wind rocked Seastrider, and his wings brushed Kiri’s face. He was sea colored, blue and green and shimmering. He swept by, staring at Kiri with eyes of green fire. He winged close again, stretched out his long neck and handsome head, and breathed his warm breath across her face. He smelled of spices and of the salty sea. She stared into his eyes, laughing, crying, wild with things she could not express. “Varuna,” she whispered. “Your name is Varuna!”

He matched his wings with Seastrider’s so his body rocked against the white dragon, and Kiri climbed onto his back and snuggled down between his wings.

When she looked over at Teb, her face was filled with a wonder and glory that turned him warm with love for her.

“How . . . ?” she began.

“He came through the Doors,” Teb said. “After you left to search for Elmmira. He was suddenly there in the sky beside Seastrider, when she and the dragonlings went to feed.”

Kiri lay down along Varuna’s neck. As he lifted away, she blew Teb a wild, ecstatic kiss. The green dragon swept up, and up, and broke through the cloud cover. They disappeared up there, into a world silent and private.

Chapter 29

Our most vivid moments make actual for us the mystery of our existence in this world. But it is dragon song that brings alive the mystery of the past within us.

— From the diary of Meriden, Queen of Auric, written after her return to Auric.

*

For nine days the army of light remained in Sharden’s city, trying to mend itself. The unicorns moved among the wounded, healing those they could heal. But nearly every day there was someone to bury. The townsfolk brought bread and fruits, meat and milk, but there were not enough herbs for medicine, not enough healing skill even with the unicorns’ magic.

Teb spent most of his time with Charkky and Hanni, for, while Charkky was nearly well, Hanni was not. The little otter lay huddled next to Charkky, his small white face filled with grieving. Many otters fished for him, but he wouldn’t eat. Meriden was with him often, and the unicorns came to kneel around him. They licked his white face and made what magic they could, but Hanni’s grief seemed beyond healing. His silent cry echoed in Teb’s mind, and when the small otter overheard plans for Thakkur’s burial ceremony, he was nearly hysterical.